


Times Change

by RedemptionRover



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Misunderstandings, Multi, Treasure Island does not exist in this house
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:28:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25058470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedemptionRover/pseuds/RedemptionRover
Relationships: Anne Bonny/"Calico" Jack Rackham/Max, Captain Flint | James McGraw/Thomas Hamilton/John Silver
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

Silver was sat with Thomas when he first noticed that familiar uncomfortable emotion welling up. It was only small, and Silver had let it go almost immediately but the fact remained that it happened. He felt it. Jealousy. They were sat in the back garden of their modest self-built home on the outskirts of a small town on a large yet remote island far away from Nassau. John had been laying, shirtless, on the well-maintained grass on top of some pillows he'd brought out, head resting on Thomas' thigh as the latter read a book he had gotten at the local market. Silver had his eyes closed against the sun and had almost started to dose off when Thomas closed the book after having read the last page. After a few moments contemplation he said, "James would like this."

Silver hummed in agreement. "What's it about?"

Thomas absentmindedly threaded his fingers through Silver's hair as he contemplated how to fit the whole plot into a small description. "Overall I'd say the cruelty of social standings but in a lesser sense it's a romantic story between unlikely partners." He always did that with Silver, dumbed things down in a way he thought would translate well to a non-academic. On the complete opposite end of the spectrum, Flint would simply read some of the passages that he found interesting to John without offering any context, not that he needed to offer one. Silver assumed he was picking out quotes to discuss later with Thomas because the other would be able to understand the significance but Silver smiled every time he did it nonetheless. He was always enraptured by Flint's voice when he was reading no matter what it was because he loved the inflections his captain used and it was something he never got to see before. 

Silver huffed a small laugh. "You think he'll enjoy a love story?"

Thomas stopped stroking Silver's hair and laid back onto the grass, putting the book down and his arms under his head. "He was quite romantic once." That's when it happened. That phrase made John feel a little pang in his chest. He knew that wasn't Thomas' intention, the man wouldn't hurt a fly, but it still hurt. He knew that Flint and Thomas had a whole life before he'd even known their names but it was easy to forget that when they were all together, when Silver slept between them and lived as one with them. He never thought much of it, really, because they both re-assured him that he was as much a part of this as either of them. 

"I'm sure." Silver replied, which Thomas seemed to take as an incentive to further explain. 

"Once, after a particularly gruelling day of disheartening arguments with disagreeable men, he drew a bath for us both. Lit candles, bought wine, even sourced out some oils. It was delightful." Thomas let out a reminiscent sigh. "I suppose now he just shows that softer side of himself in different ways."

"When you find out what they are, be sure to let me know." Silver chuckled. 

"Well for one," Thomas started and Silver shook his head slightly, amused at Thomas' inability to read anyone as anything but sincere, "he always uses a scrap of leather as a bookmark because he knows I hate the pages folded in our books." _I never knew that_ , Silver thinks, but that's because he'd never held an interest in reading. He'd only been taught how to read bible verses at the orphanage before he'd escaped but he supposed it was all for the better. They say when you lose one sense it heightens the others. Therefore with Silver's somewhat illiteracy came the incredible ability to communicate and manipulate through spoken language. There wasn't a single situation he couldn't talk his way out of thus far. Then, he'd learned how to read better on his own but could never quite decipher lyrical writings and their meanings. However, to neither James nor Thomas' knowledge, he'd been having lessons at the local library with Max in between work shifts in order to share this pastime with his lovers. "Secondly, he does all the gardening because he knows I detest dirt." Silver knew that, but he couldn't do that much on account of the garden being on the floor and him missing a leg. "Thirdly, he always tries to protect us from the rest of the world, even when he doesn't have too." Silver was a little confused at the use of _us_ in that last part, because he knew Flint was insanely protective of Thomas, but when had he ever protected Silver? He supposes it makes sense, Silver made himself into a dangerous individual while Thomas was still the remnants of a Lord, and often behaved as such, to the anger of the general public. 

"That's less a heartfelt, romantic gesture than a necessity when it comes to you." Silver said and Thomas sat up, making Silver open his bright blue eyes, made even more clear by the sunlight, and give Thomas a mischievous grin. "You're more trouble than you look, Sir." 

"And you're positively a tyrant, Mr Silver." Silver dragged himself up from Thomas' lap so that they were on eye level.

"Do you think you need protecting from me?" He got into Thomas space and made the blonde man lean back so that he was on his elbows as Silver straddled him. "From a ruthless criminal set on stealing from you?"

"That depends what it is you wish to steal." Thomas replied, revelling in the feeling of John's weight in his lap, their faces inches from each another. 

"You affections," Silver said, pressing a chaste kiss to Thomas' cheek, "your mind," a small kiss to the forehead, "your love." He gave Thomas the biggest, most charming smile he could muster and though he was mocking Thomas' love of embarrassingly soft romance novels, it didn't stop the blonde from blushing under the seduction.

"There's one small problem with that, you rogue."

"Oh?" Silver tilted his head like a confused puppy and Thomas lifted one arm to Silver's upper back. 

"You cannot steal what you already have." Then using that arm he pushed Silver forward gently until they were finally kissing properly, eyes closed, hands roaming over one another. It was perfect. That feeling from earlier had completely dissipated from John's mind as he ground down into Thomas' lap, eliciting gasps from them both. When they broke apart Silver looked at Thomas and was completely enraptured by the man who owned half os his heart. The pale skin from a preference for shade had been painted rosy pink over his cheeks and nose, which matched the colour of his perfect lips. He had a few laughter lines in the corners of his eyes and his hair looked so soft as it was ruffled by a slight breeze. John suddenly wished he was an artist so he could immortalise this moment and hang it up on their wall for him and Flint to adore. 

"Well. I'm sure a man has had worse homecomings." Came a voice from the back porch which made the other two turn around. Stood in the golden light was the other half of Silver's heart, Captain Flint. He walked over, then sat down on the pillows next to them, leaning to kiss Thomas first, as always, and then Silver. It had never bothered Silver that Thomas always got kissed first, it was just routine. Thomas and James usually got to the door quicker whenever either of them came home because of his leg so it had just become the normal thing to do. It wasn't about priority or anything, was it? Silver shook the thought away and simply turned to Flint. 

"You're home early." Flint had very quickly gotten acquainted with the people that took it upon themselves to run the town and had managed to gain a seat in the council, a job which didn't require much attention but had Flint away for meetings every now and again.

"Just in time, it seems." He observed, looking between the two. 

"Just warming up." Thomas insisted, and again Silver felt that pang, because even if it was only subconscious Thomas considered him second rate. Somewhere in the back of his head a voice was telling him he was being ridiculous and he brushed it off. 

"A starter before the main course, if you will." Silver said, going along with Thomas. It wasn't straight away that the two had built up a rapport but over time it seemed more natural to be able to go along with Thomas' way of speaking. It was especially difficult for Silver at first though because Flint had always been dignified in speech but seemed to be five times more eloquent around Thomas than him. It reminded Silver of the couples that used to come to the orphanage and pledge donations for publicity but then around the orphans had enforced a strict no-touching rule so as to not come into contact with the filth they considered these children to be. At times Silver was tempted to pick-pocket the two out of sheer habit, but he'd become accustom to it as much as he was able.

"Well, by all means, let me show you to your table." James said, and it would have been nice had John not had to roll off Thomas and force himself up on his crutch, skin tearing on the splintered wood a little as he got up. It was alright, though, because it was just a nick on his side, one that hadn't even bled and the other two hadn't noticed because they'd already made their way to the porch, trading heated kisses as Silver made his way over. It was something Silver would never be able to do again, and he couldn't be bitter about his two loves being able to. "Took your time, Silver." James said, playfully, as he was wont to do in Thomas' presence.

"Absence makes the cock grow fonder." Silver said and shrugged, "or something along those lines, isn't it?"

Flint rolled his eyes as he guided the other two into the house to make up for lost time while he'd been with the council.


	2. Chapter 2

The second time, a few weeks later, Silver was less able to ignore it. This time, he was sat with Flint. He'd just missed Thomas going to the market when he'd come from working at the bar Jack and Anne had taken over and was greeted with silence when he waled into the house. "Hello?"

"John?" Flint had replied, from the living room sofa, holding the book Thomas had been reading. He must have been too engrossed to have even heard Silver come in. John smiled to himself, it was nice to see James doing something he enjoyed and Silver would never not find the sight of his captain aglow against the faint light of the fading day attractive. It was times like this, rare times when James was calm and still, that Silver got to see the real man behind the front he put up, and it was all Silver had wanted from the moment they met.

"That's me." John replied then sat down in the armchair across from his love, keeping his cane in his hand. He only used the crutch on particularly bad days now and had gotten more used to finding his balance on the leg that had been made for him.

The bar had been busy that night as it was every Friday when the fisherman and small trade boats came into the dock, so he was moving around often, but didn't feel any pain like he used to. "Tonight was absolutely insane. The sight of Jack Rackham chasing five parrots around with a fishing net is something everybody should see at least once before they die, and you wouldn't believe how it came about. It started with this one man, must have been 9ft if you'd believe it, and wider with muscle than a whale. He practically to the bar, _reaches over the counter_ , and-"

"Did you bring any bread with you? Thomas was craving it this morning." Flint asked, interrupting without even listening to what Silver had been saying, nor having looked away from the book. That was when he felt it. Silver mightn't have been able to read and discuss like Hamilton can, but he could always entertain and make Flint laugh, even when he didn't want to, and especially when he needed to.

This was the best he could give of himself and it was unfair that Flint seemed to brush it off. It was probably just that Flint was tired or had something else on his mind, he reasoned, so he answered the question. He started to gesture with his hands too to try and garner attention, if not for the movement then because John was wearing one of Flint's rings that the man had left on the bedside table by accident a few days ago. It had fit perfectly and Silver hadn't taken it off since.

"I picked one up from the baker on the way to the bar, so rest assured it hasn't been passed between a hundred hungry hands that decided against buying it. Speaking of hungry hands this guy leans right over and grabs a spoon and I mean, who am I to stop this guy? Greek titans would shit themselves seeing him. So he takes this spoon, curved edge in palm and starts screaming-"

"Where is it?" Flint interrupted again and Silver was starting to get annoyed. He spent hours upon hours listening to stories from Flint, no matter how unremarkable, and yet Flint couldn't tear his attention away from this book, or the _idea of bread_ , for him? Both of those things were still going to be the same when he'd finished his story, so he simply elected to ignore the interruption, though the candour from the his second attempt at telling the story had dissipated somewhat. 

"He starts really shouting, at the top of those big, strong lungs,-"

"-Silver-"

"-'Is there anyone here has any clue about peckers?' he actually said that. In his own words. This huge, mountain of a man came in asking about _peckers._ He meant the birds of course, but they weren't even _known_ to the bar yet so Jack obviously couldn't let that phrasing slide-"

"-John." Flint said as he slammed the book shut and stood up. "As fascinating as this fiction is I need that bread for dinner tonight, seeing as how you couldn't cook even if your life depended on it, which it actually has." There was a second wherein Flint had looked directly at him and his eyes had narrowed on his hands. "On another note, stop stealing my things."

Silver, defeated, simply stood up and took his cane with him. His annoyance must have shown more than he wanted because Flint's expression seemed to soften. "I might have left it at the bar." He says with a little bit of guilt, but mostly spite.

When had his storied become second priority to bread, for Christs sake. In the beginning he had been met with bated breath by Thomas and amusement and thinly veiled interest from Flint. Interruptions had been questions about the story, or laughter, or gasps. Never this. Never _stop talking you're a forgetful idiot whose distracting me from the book my truest love gave me to read._ Oh no, where had _that_ come from.

Flint sighed and got up too, taking his coat from the back of nearly chair and adorning it all the while scowling at Silver. "I suppose I'll have to go get it before Anne locks up for the night. Hand it over." He said once he was in front of Silver with his palm out.

"Do whatever you want." Silver conceded and gave Flint the ring back, then watched as Flint stormed out of the house. What was he supposed to do? Make him stand there and listen to a story he had no interest in just to be petulant? He'd never had much pride, but the small amount he did have wouldn't have him grovel for attention. He knew that when Flint got into one of his moods it would be Silver that had to deal with it. It had been that way since the beginning, apart from Silver was able to calm him down then. Now, he just seemed to aggravate him more. 

When he heard the door shut behind him he moved to the sofa, big enough for two comfortably, and three when it really needed to. He picked up the book as he sat down and read the title aloud, "Romeo and Juliet. William Shakespeare." He vaguely remembered hearing the title before when he was younger but didn't have any idea what it was about. When he opened it the pages had two natural splits where there were two leather scraps inside. The one closer to the begging was where John chose to look and as he picked up the scrap he noticed that there was a small 'T' embossed on the leather a little shoddily. It must have been Thomas', which was strange because Silver had thought he'd finished the book but he must have been re-reading. He put it back and looked at the other scrap little further on that had a 'J' just as shakily pressed into the leather for James.

In the page where that leather was pressed there was a speech that had been underlined very sharply with a pencil. John started to read it aloud, "But soft! What light through yonder window breaks..." John huffed, annoyed. "What in the fuck does _yonder_ mean?" He asked to the empty room. It's no wonder his two lovers decided to leave him out of that stuff. After attempting to read and understand the rest of the paragraph and failing miserably he put the leather scrap and the book back down 

With neither Thomas nor James in the house it was difficult for him to find anything to entertain himself. At least on a ship there was always someone around and awake to tell his stories to or trade jokes with. Here, there was little to do. He chose, after about 5 minutes of just sitting there, to head up to the bedroom for a quick nap before the other two got back.

\-----------------------

When he was a kid John learned quickly that if nobody listened to you the best thing to do was find something that people wanted to hear. With that thought in mind, he took to music to try and gain the attention of Flint and Thomas. There was a small piano on their ground floor and one singular book of songs to play on it on their bookshelves. The day after he had managed to anger Flint he took it from said shelf and then to the bar with him for work in the morning. 

Max had hired a musician to play the piano that was kept in the corner of the bar to give it some ambiance, and John saw this is the perfect opportunity. It hadn't occurred to him before, to learn this new skill that would put use to both of his hands, but then he hadn't had to actually try to get the attention he was given before either. When the musician came in and sat at the piano, John had asked him to play this new sheet music instead of the usual stuff, just for a change. He figured he would just copy the noises afterwards, not actually being able to read sheet music. It wouldn't work to just make something up. Neither James nor Thomas had ever played the instrument as long as Jahn had known them so they must like this particular music. Maybe they went to a performance together back in England? He didn't know what the significance was but he was sure to garner their attention with the familiar notes.

"We keep playing music like that we run the risk that people see this as a classy establishment." Jack commented as he leaned against the bar on his break.

John was cleaning glasses and turned to face him to respond. "We keep you in employ and I'm certain no-one will share that fear."

Jack gasped in mock offence. "I'm the life-blood of this place."

"You're what?" Came Max's voice from behind Jack and Jon laughed as he straightened up at the sight of her, not wanting to be caught slacking.

"Nothing, dear."

Max gave him a wary look. "Get back to work." She then smiled fondly behind his back when he followed her order, then turned to John. "This is your music? Where did you get it?"

"Thomas and Flint's library." He said, then felt the need to continue as Max waited for him to explain, knowing there was more. When had he become so easy to read? "I figured I'd try to learn it as a surprise."

"Awful nice of you with no ulterior motive." She eyed him pointedly then added, "are you not getting enough attention?"

He gave her a surprised look for a second, then just looked down at his glass that he had cleaned to the point that he was sure it'd never been that shiny. He shrugged his shoulders as he turned to put the glass away on the back of the boor, avoiding her gaze. "Thomas listens to me out of polite indifference, but Flint... Flint-"

"-Flint!" John heard in a croaking voice from just above where he was standing and was very confused for a second.

"What was-"

"-Flint!" At the second shout John stepped back and looked up at the glasses shelves. In the gap between the ceiling and the top of the shelves there was a small, colourful feather shuffling back and forth.

"Jack!" John shouted, "get me a handful of bread from the kitchen."

"Why?"

"You know how you told that guy he must have lost his 6th parrot outside? I think you might have been mistaken." 

Next thing he knew, John had a handful of bread from Anne in the kitchen and used his other arm to pull a stool up in front of the shelves. "Be careful, Silver." Max warned, and John shot her a look that she had gotten used to nowadays. A _I can do this without help and I don't need you to say anything about it_ look. She'd learned the best response to that was to simply let John play out whatever action he'd gotten into his head, no matter how difficult it was. 

Once he was up on the stool, he could see one of the parrots from the day before on the shelf, cowering at the back. Slowly he held out the bread to the bird, which must have been hungry after staying up there presumably all night. "I won't hurt you." He said in the softest voice he could manage, but the bird didn't budge. 

He slowly but gently put his hand with the bread further in, and the bird seemed to calculate his intentions, then slowly shuffled forward, taking a chunk of the bread then walking back with it to examine and eat. John watched as the bird came to the conclusion that he was a friend and watched it shuffle further out until it's head was peeking out and when John offered his arm out, the bird climbed on, nibbling on the bread in his other hand that he was tempting with. 

"Why isn't it flying away?" Jack asked.

It was then that Joh noticed it's right wing was bent and a little limp at it's side. "I think she's hurt."

"She?" Max asked.

"Of course. Don't you think?"

"Sure."

John slowly climbed down with some difficulty, the parrot's good wing flapping in his face when he stumbled a little. When he finally got to the ground he stoked her head tentatively and she leaned into the touch, soft and pliant, though John suspected it had something to do with the face that she didn't have much of a choice but to trust him. "You're okay, now." He told her.

"Is talking to chickens a sight of madness?" He heard Jack ask Max but rolled his eyes at it.

"Don't you listen to the mean man. You're no chicken, are you? What's your name?" 

The bird looked at him, and after having watched people having conversations all day, seemed to understand that noise was supposed to be met with noise. "Flint!"

Max and Jack laughed behind him. "I really don't need two of those. Anything else?"

"Flint!" The parrot insisted, and John shook his head.

"I'm not calling you-"

"-Flint! Flint! Flint!" The bird shouted and bobbed up and down on his arm as if nodding in response. John just sighed and patted her head to calm her down again.

"Fine. Classic Flint. Stubborn to the core." He turned to the other two who ceased their snickering at his glare. "I need to take Flint to the doctor. She's broken her wing I think." 

"You can take her after work." Max compromised and Silver nodded as her and Jack also got back to work.

"That's fair." He put his arm closer to the bar to put Flint down but she just stared up at him as if the idea were preposterous and when he shook his arm to get her off she simply climbed up higher until she settled on his shoulder and shimmied down until she was comfortable. "That actually makes sense." He said in resignation and simply continued on throughout the shift, going back to listening to the music played and trying to memorise the tune. 

By the time the bar had emptied of customers he was sure he'd memorised the songs, on one particular that seemed to be the least complicated. When he sat down at the piano, however, he found he couldn't play anything even resembling the tune he'd heard. Maybe he'd gotten two or three similar chords but other than that he was completely off the mark. How was that even possible? It didn't _look_ that hard.

"What are you doing?" Anne asked, coming out the kitchen drying her hands. "I didn't know you could play."

"I can't, apparently?"

She moved closer then looked over his shoulder at the sheet music. "Can you even read this?"

He looked down at the piano, ashamed. "I didn't think I'd need to."

"You thought you could hear it once and then just be able to do it? You're an idiot."

"You're an idiot!" Flint repeated from where she was sat on top of the piano, and without a word Anne handed her a chunk of bread from her pocket.

John scowled. "Don't reinforce that!" Anne just smiled a little then went back to being straight faced. Even just that small bit of emotion was to be treasured rom Anne and Silver knew and appreciated it. "It's just hitting keys how was I supposed to know there was skill to it?"

"Move." Anne ordered so John got up. Flint started to stamp her feet and flap her wing at him until he picked her up and put her on his shoulder. Anne huffed in amusement at the spectacle as she sat on the piano stool and looked over the music before playing the same, if not better than the musician had earlier.

"How-"

"-all well-respected girls should be able to play an instrument. I had to learn this before I escaped that hellish lifestyle."

John nodded, knowing not to pry, still in shock at the friendship that had blossomed between them. Often, it seems done sided and that Anne put up with John simply because h reworked at the bar and got along with her lovers, but it was times like this, few as they were, that John was glad to call her a friend. "Can you teach me this song, tonight? I don't need to be able to read the music just memorise the pattern on the keys."

"Alright."

John then sat with Anne for the next two hours, going over the notes for the song and by the end he was sure he'd never be able to unlearn it. He didn't even truly know the song that well, but he had memorised the sequence to a fault, it was only the first key that he needed to find on the piano at home to be able to play it when he got there. He had thanked Anne before leaving and she had nodded in response. He took the book back from the piano, playing the sequence in his head all the way to the Doctor's office, where the man inside had at first been confused but then consulted a book in this office about the anatomy of birds and had wrapped the wing up with a bandage in a position that it would be able to heal in. John then took the bird home after picking up another loaf of bread form the bakers. 

When he got back home he went straight to the shed in the back garden that he got in through the back gate, not wanting the other two to know he was harbouring a parrot in their home. When inside he lit a candle and set about making a bed out of the softest thing he could find in there. There were a few spare pillows he liked to drag out to the chairs on the porch sometimes that he gathered together in a circle on the floor, then he picked up Flint and put her inside the little soft nest he'd made, putting half the loaf inside the bed and hand in the small cupboard in there, then he got a small bowl of water from the water pump in the garden and put it beside her bed. 

"Do my a favour and be quiet, okay? Can I trust you to do that?"

"Quiet!"

He frantically shushed her than nodded. "Yes! Yes. Quiet. Thank you. See you tomorrow!" Then he blew out the candle and shut the door which Flint had no complaints about, tired as she was. 

When he got into the house, he tried to walk quietly past James and Thomas on the sofa but his creaky leg gave him away. 

"You're home!" Thomas observed, delighted. 

"What that you've got?" James asked, standing up and walking to him to give a welcome home kiss. 

"Nothing. A surprise."

"Do tell." Thomas insisted, getting up for the same thing.

John smiled and put the book back quickly before going to the piano and sitting down. James pulled up a small seat behind him that he and Thomas could sit on to witness the surprise. He heard a gasp behind him as he played the first note and felt utter triumph at the fact that he got the first part correct, meaning the best could only follow. The song lasted about 3 minutes in total but it was a lot considering he'd only had 2 hours and the fact he got the timing pretty much right was also something he was proud of. He was fully prepared to turn into the warm embrace of the men he loved but was surprised to find when he finished an empty silence that was followed by a sniffle.

"I miss her." Thomas whispered and John turned to find James hugging Thomas to his chest as his body shivered with sobs. 

"I know. Me too." He replied.

"What wrong?" John asked. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"Oh no, John, that was lovely." Thomas insisted.

"Miranda used to play it." James provided and John understood. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know her or feel her loss like either of them did. He didn't know when or where or why she had played this music for him and he had never felt the emotion they had listening to it together. He realised, in that moment, that he was a poor replacement for a woman he'd never known. In the back of his head he heard a voice tell him that he was being ridiculous again but he couldn't brush off the distraught feeling this time. It enveloped him probably as quickly as Thomas and James' grief, flooding his sense and making his heart feel heavy.

How was he supposed to compete with a memory? He joined their hug, feeling momentarily, but not truly, safe in side James' warm hold. 

_I'm sorry I can't be what you want me to be._


End file.
